Whitey Schmidt - The Chesapeake Bay Oyster Cookbook

The Chesapeake Bay Oyster COOKBOOK WHITEY SCHMIDT I think oysters are more beautiful than any religion... They not only forgive our unkindness to them; they justify it, they incite us to go on being perfectly horrid to them. Once they arrive at the supper table they seem to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the thing. Theres nothing in Christianity or Buddhism that quite matches the sympathetic unselfishness of the oyster. Hector Munro, The Matchmaker ISBN 0-9613008-0-9 ISBN 978-0-9907833-6-7 (ePub) ISBN 978-0-9907833-7-4 (mobi) Library of Congress Catalog Number in publication data 2003 by Marian Hartnett Press Box 88, Crisfield, Maryland 21817 All rights reserved. C ONTENTS A Festive Look at the Celebrated Oyster The Joy of Oysters A History of Crisfield, Maryland Legend and Lore and Old Recipes Oyster Entres These oysters and crack knife were created by wildlife carver Walt Schmitz, Atlantic, Virginia. C ONTENTS A Festive Look at the Celebrated Oyster The Joy of Oysters A History of Crisfield, Maryland Legend and Lore and Old Recipes Oyster Entres These oysters and crack knife were created by wildlife carver Walt Schmitz, Atlantic, Virginia.

Photograph by Vince Lupo. When I was growing up on the Western Shore of the Chesapeake Bay, I remember hearing a lot about how great oysters were. When they werent feasting on blue crabs, all the people in my neighborhood talked about the R months and how many oysters theyd eat once the season rolled around. Pop Schmidt sure loved them. Whenever they were in season, I remember hed steam, scald, barbecue, and slurp them by the dozen. But I wasnt convinced.

To my juvenile eyes they just looked kinda... well, they didnt look like hamburgers. So it was with a little trepidation that I finally took Pop up on his offer and tried my first fried oyster (I was a teenager by then, if you can believe it). But as soon as I tasted it, I was hooked. There was just something unique about the flavoror flavors. Already a huge fan of the Bays other catchesrockfish, croaker, and, of course, blue crabsI found this new taste something more complex and suitable to my maturing palate.

I recall the taste well, and have recreated it countless times since here in my Crisfield kitchen (known as the Crab Lab to my friends, but also used for oyster research). First, there was the taste of the sea: briny, meaty, dramatic. That was followed by a slight mineral richness, which was then followed by a lingering, pleasant aftertaste that was even smoother than the flavor of the oyster itself. Id like to think that Pop would be proud of how seriously I take oysters today. Since my first dalliance with the oyster, Ive learned to appreciate it for more than its flavor, and Im not alone. Here in Chesapeake country, the oyster is not so much a menu item as it is a legitimate subculture all its own.

We write poems about oysters; we venerate the watermen who harvest oysters. We hold oyster roasts and oyster festivals that can draw tens of thousands of devotees in a single weekend. Personally, I spend countless hours standing around the Crab Lab with friends, popping oysters (the local Chincoteague salts are my favorite), cracking beers, and whipping up old recipesand some brand new oneswhile we slurp oysters and talk about everything from wine to women and... well, wine and women. In short, we love our oysters. And why shouldnt we? Oystering on the Chesapeake goes back many, many generations.

Bivalves are in our blood. All around the Bay, there are families today who are still oystering and can trace their oystering lineage back to the turn of the last centuryindeed the golden era for oysters on the Chesapeake. Rather than the dozen or so skipjack fishing boats we have plying the Bay today for oysters, there were literally thousands doing so in the early 1900s. Their captainsa motley assortment of profiteers and piratescame from all over the world to cash in on the Bays oyster rush the same way prospectors swarmed San Francisco in 1849. I can think back and imagine what that must have been like. The rum. The rum.

The profits. The oysters! I dont know. Maybe Im just an old romantic. Maybe I was born in the wrong era. But I doubt it. Enjoy. Enjoy.

Whitey Schmidt